


A Whirlwind of Limbs

by Irollforinitiative



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221bcon flash fic, Frottage, Johncroft, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irollforinitiative/pseuds/Irollforinitiative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the flash fanfiction panel at 221B Con I had the pairing of Mycroft/John, the location of France, the line of “sorry it took so long”, and the optional sex act of frottage. Title comes from a crappy line I ended up taking out but was added due to the quick nature of the writing and the sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whirlwind of Limbs

John looked out at the Mediterranean Sea as it churned and shone outside his window. The holiday was supposed to be a reprieve, a way out, a break from the horrifying reality of life post-Sherlock. Life once you saw your best friend die. But instead of sunning himself and drowning his sorrows on the beach he was in a hotel room with Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft fucking Holmes who waltzed in with his suits and umbrellas.  A Sherlock that had human emotion and, one could assume, sexual urges. Somehow his damned grade-school crush on Sherlock had shifted to Mycroft once they’d had what he had labeled “the great asexual discussion.” And who could blame him? Sherlock was gorgeous and brilliant and amazing but just not interested in the things John wanted out of a relationship. And then there was Mycroft. Also gorgeous. Also brilliant. And potentially able to give him the things his friendship with Sherlock hadn’t. It was all a bit too much for him, though, through the grief and the confusion and so when Mycroft had offered a holiday John had assumed that meant a holiday alone. In the end being wrong about Mycroft’s intentions wasn’t too bad. At least he was drunk and Mycroft was good to look at. Mycroft was the first one to break the extended silence.

“I am sorry it took so long to get you here,” Mycroft said, sipping his whiskey.

John shrugged and felt his world shift as he moved his jaw to say, “at least the view’s nice.”

“Yes, France is rather lovely this time of year.”

“I didn’t mean what’s outside the window.”

John’s eyes widened a little as he heard his own words. The pleasant buzz of drunk he had been nurturing seemed to burn away in embarrassment as he process that his priva thought had somehow become a sentence without his permission. Too much liquor and too much Holmes had loosened his tongue. Mycroft looked back at John, slight shock registering on his normally placid face.

“I’m sorry. What?” Mycroft’s voice was still calm and even as he spoke.

“Nothing,” John said as he stood quickly, his cheeks heating with what was sure to be an impressive blush.

John awkwardly walked to the window and stared out of it, hoping Mycroft would take the hint and let the last minute blow over, let them go back to awkward silence with drinking. John wasn’t so lucky. After a few minutes he felt a hand on his elbow. John sighed and turned, expecting to find Mycroft confused or cross. The last thing he actually had expected when he turned was to be met with lips, warm lips that tasted like scotch and a hint of chocolate. John took a second to process the situation before pulling away and narrowing his eyes at Mycroft.

“Did you just kiss me?” John asked.

It was a stupid question and he knew it, but it was a question that needed asking. Mycroft didn’t seem fazed by the stupidity, merely raising an eyebrow and frowning ever so slightly.

“Obviously. The last few minutes gave me the impression my feelings towards you are reciprocated. My own feelings should have been obvious when I asked you here with me in the first place.”

John opened his mouth to answer but frowned, closing it as the past two months came back to him in a rush. Mycroft had taken time to be there for John, care for him in his grief, go out to dinner with him, go out to drinks, and then the holiday...damn even the invitation to a holiday had been vague. Count on a Holmes to even make flirtation a game of deducing intent. But the intent was there and so John nodded, tossing back the rest of his whiskey before stepping into Mycroft’s space again and kissing him. Mycroft made a small sound of shock, hands going to John’s hips. With a nudge the elder Holmes brother pushed John up against the window, tongue delving into John’s mouth. Mycroft’s hips rocked forward and in a flash John felt like a teenager again, the desire for release and more of Mycroft’s mouth overriding any logical thoughts of beds or undressing.

Mycroft’s mind must have been similarly affected as he moaned, nudging John’s thighs apart to stand between them before rocking his hips again. When Mycroft’s cock rubbed against John’s the presence of jeans and overly expensive trousers stopped mattering. John hooked his leg over Mycroft’s hip as best he could, pressing forward and seeking out friction for his now straining erection. Bloody hell he’d been half hard all day just being around Mycroft, watching him sip whiskey, so the relief of sexual tension was consumptive. John gasped into Mycroft’s neck and rutted faster, the elder Holmes reaching down to squeeze John’s arse, his own hips working a fast rhythm as well. After what should have been an embarrassingly short period of time Mycroft was nipping at John’s neck and whimpering softly as he came, the dark wetness of his climax spreading across the front of his bespoke trousers. That sight was too much for John and gasped as his own cock twitched through an orgasm, dirtying his pants and jeans. John held onto Mycroft as his breathing slowed and leg slid down from the taller man’s hip, using the presence of another body to ground him to the reality of what had just transpired.

“Not what I had planned,” Mycroft said, voice sounding a little ragged, “but entirely acceptable.”

John looked up at him and smiled softly.

“Sorry about that. I suppose a bit of pent up desire is to blame.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just have to fuck you later tonight,” Mycroft said with a wicked grin, stepping back to lead John towards the bedroom.

 

 


End file.
